


Living Without a Goddess

by LetsTussleBoiz



Series: Life with a Goddess [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adult!Sothis, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F!Byleth, F/F, Flayn is now your comedic relief, Lots of unrequited relationships, No Byleth Perspective (All perspective will be from different characters), No Sothis after beginning of Act 2 tho, Not until Act 3, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), She's seven feet tall it's amazing, Sorry Not Sorry, Tagged that last one for clarification if you somehow didn't read my first work and got confused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsTussleBoiz/pseuds/LetsTussleBoiz
Summary: The war continues in earnest as Edelgard von Hresvelg and the Empire conquer more and more territory.A woman lays resting in an endless canyon.Then, she opens her eyes.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Rhea, My Unit | Byleth & Sothis, My Unit | Byleth/Rhea, My Unit | Byleth/Sothis, Rhea & Sothis (Fire Emblem), Unrequited Relationships:
Series: Life with a Goddess [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552645
Comments: 40
Kudos: 218





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> HOO! I am SO sorry for the delay on this. Writing Seteth's part suuuuuuucked. It sucked so much but I am DETERMINED to stick with my ideas.
> 
> Okay! This is Act 2. Fair warning, there will be no sweet Sothis content, and we won't get Byleth's perspective at ALL for the entirety of Act 2 (Intentional choice). I thought the story would read better if I showed Byleth's changes and attitude from the outside, rather than within.
> 
> I took a poll on my Discord to help decide which students I would choose from other houses (I wanted transfer students for more outside perspective) and the ones chosen were Ingrid, Mercedes, Lysithea, and Marianne (Hilda tied with Ingrid in fourth, but I chose Ingrid cuz Lady Knight needs representation)
> 
> Another warning, this Act will get dark in several places. Byleth isn't an unhinged berserker like Dimitri but that doesn't mean she's doing Well. 
> 
> Also, Act 1 shook out ROUGHLY the same as in the game (Pre timeskip) but Act 2 is gonna be WICKED different in a lot of ways, ESPECIALLY the ending. Do Not Expect The Generic Silver Snow Ending. You Will Not Get That.
> 
> A huge shout-out to Abigail, FelaniaSoul, and Remi for helping beta the fic and giving me feedback.
> 
> Another shout-out to Mado AKA BergamontTea for letting me use her chapter format from the von Hresvelg family fic she wrote (That fic is so good y'all go read it right meow)
> 
> Okay, enjoy!

###  **I - Sothis**

_Why did I have to fall in love with such an absolute fool?_ Sothis thought, running her hand through the soft green locks of Byleth’s hair.

The decaying rock walls of the canyon rose up around them, seeming to swallow the pair in darkness. Sounds of running water and crashing waves bounced from stone to stone, reverberating around them in a facsimile of a roaring river, but the small trickle of water squirming between her toes told Sothis otherwise.

Once again she tried to take in the bruised and battered form of her vessel, stopping short when she reached the gaping wound in Byleth’s chest. She turned, trying not to retch on an unconscious Byleth. Fortunately, since Sothis had frozen Byleth in time, she was able to avoid the body decaying, which meant no odors. On the flip side, that meant she’d been sitting alone in a canyon with an unmoving corpse for the past four years.

“Well, Byleth described herself as a corpse even before this happened, so she would most certainly argue that there is not much difference now,” Sothis murmured, her hands glowing as she tried not to think about where she was touching. The process of stitching Byleth back together had been laborious for numerous reasons. Most of her power was being spent simply keeping her alive, so the actual healing process was being impeded.

She frowned. For some reason, she was bothered by the stillness. In her past life, she’d never been one to focus on the individual moments. Time stretched out before her like a tapestry, and it was difficult to be frustrated with linear timeframes, since she saw so much more. Yet here she was, patching up the woman she one sidedly loved, completely alone.

Hesitantly, she reached out to tap on Byleth’s forehead. While improbable that she would wake, her company would help relieve Sothis of her mutinous feelings

Nothing.

Days passed by with little of note, save for the progress of her healing. Months flowed by the pair, and finally Sothis made enough progress to lift her spell. She smiled widely and waited for her vessel to awaken.

Nothing.

Biting her lip, she pulled at Byleth’s hair. “You… How long do you intend to sleep?”

Sothis clasped Byleth’s neck, feeling the blood pump underneath the skin. She had saved Byleth’s life, but for some reason she refused to wake up.

“Come back to me, Byleth. Your body is awake. Why have you not returned?”

Nothing.

Seething with rage, she lurched to her feet and stomped her foot, throwing her hands up in dismay. “You are a complete and utter fool! Have you not changed one bit?!”

She stalked over and started prodding Byleth’s face with her foot.

“Get on your feet. Right now! I shall coddle you no more! You are just like a child, always needing me to hold your hand…”

Sothis froze as she realized what she had said.

_Have I… have I simply repeated the same follies with Byleth as I did with my daughter?_

No. Of course not. Byleth was different. Sothis trusted her more than anyone. Surely she would not devolve into the same grieving child her daughter had before her.

“Wake up, Byleth. Please.”

###  **II - Edelgard**

Wind howled through the abandoned campus of Garreg Mach Monastery, undisturbed in its passage save for the decaying walls and withered oaks. The charred bark of the few trees that had survived the battle years ago fell from the trunk, dusting into black powder in the breeze.

Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg strode through the courtyard, plated boots crunching in the blackened grass under her feet. An enormous tower loomed before her, its shadow stretching out far in the evening sun. She ran her fingers lightly over the stone, gloves catching on a jagged brick. Frowning, she yanked off her white satin glove and tossed it to the ground. A long scar starting from her palm and snaking up her arm burned in the open air.

“Honestly, Professor,” Edelgard said, chuckling bitterly, “you hardly needed to give me another reason to remember you. Your face already occupies my thoughts constantly.”

A large pile of rubble blocked the entrance to the tower, the gorgeously carved doors shattered and collapsed inward from the damage. She sighed, then hefted her axe. Her crest flashed to life as she smashed the rocks to pieces. The sound of metal against stone stung her ears, a noise far too sharp after complete silence. Kicking the remaining debris away with her feet, she slowly trailed her way up the stairs. Her thoughts went back to her previous trek up the spiral staircase, where she’d been met with the smiling face of her professor.

 _I shall be greeted with no such blessing today,_ Edelgard thought, fist clenching around the scar on her palm. Not only had she forsaken the goddess and her people, she had also created the very scenario that ended in her dear professor’s death. Following the battle, she had railed at her uncle under the veiled excuse of destroying a valuable asset. He had dismissed her of course, along with the usual thinly veiled threats should she fall too far out of line.

She sighed, stepping out into the open room of the Goddess Tower. The last rays of light from the setting sun illuminated the dust that still hung heavy in the air. Several lanterns flickered to light in the corners of the room, the enchanted basins still maintaining their spell despite having been abandoned long ago. 

Edelgard smashed her fist into the wall, cracking the stone and sending a tremble down the tower. “Why am I even here? I know she won’t come, but here I am anyway...”

“Hm. Are you sure?”

Her hand had already drawn her sword before her mind processed the voice, slashing in a wide arc behind her. The tip of the blade caught against something not quite metal. Edelgard squinted into the dark, drawing into a defensive pose and curling her lip into a snarl. “Who’s there?”

Out of the shadows stepped… no. It was impossible. She had died years ago, fallen into the chasm she had spent days searching. Sure, they never found the body, and her professor was not one to die easily, but…

Yet here she stood, neutral expression staring Edelgard down. The unusual regalia she had worn when emerging from the rift still adorned her shapely form, the blue cloth and colorful tassels draping over her form. A few weeks before the incident in the Holy Tomb, she had returned to her old outfit. Seeing her wearing a goddess’ robes now painfully reminded her of where Byleth’s allegiances laid. In spite of her former teacher’s level gaze, Edelgard could feel the bloodlust emitting as if it possessed a tangible form. She straightened, taking a single step back.

“Huh?! It’s… how are you here? WHY are you here?”

Byleth cupped her chin and rested her elbow on her other palm, her telltale sign of thoughtfulness. “Hm, I’m not sure. It certainly wasn’t for you.”

Edelgard winced. “I see. So you were alive…”

Her teacher snorted, turning her nose up at Edelgard pointedly. “Not quite. I’m surprised, Edelgard. After all those moons, I thought you’d learned not to turn your back on an enemy you had yet to properly defeat.”

She felt her face flush with anger. Clenching her fists, she took a step towards her professor, her sword tip lowered so as to not further provoke Byleth. “I searched for you for weeks, my teacher! I…”

Byleth cocked an eyebrow. The subtlety of each gesture was not lost on Edelgard. Her professor wasn’t going to be convinced. Something had changed the normally amicable woman.

“No doubt in order to use me as a piece in whatever twisted game you’re playing.” Byleth almost spat the words at Edelgard.

Her words stung. While that had not been her main motive, it certainly played a part in her decision to continually approach her teacher. Having her spit it back in her face though… Edelgard bit the inside of her lip, the bitter taste of blood rushing over her tongue. Antagonizing Byleth was unlikely to lead anywhere helpful, but she couldn’t ignore the part of her that felt cheated. Like something that she had worked hard to earn was yanked away unceremoniously.

“At least I operate of my own free will. You are simply a puppet to push forward Rhea’s sick agenda.”

Anger sparked in her professor’s eyes, and the woman took a step forward to match her. “I don’t fight for Rhea.”

Edelgard scoffed. Words came tumbling out of her mouth even as she desperately reached to take them back. “I suppose Rhea was the woman you were talking about when we were in the Goddess Tower. No wonder you are so blind to reason. Were you stealing moments away from class to-”

“Enough!” Byleth shouted. She strode right up to Edelgard and stood nose to nose with her. “What reason could you possibly have for swallowing this country in a horrific war that has cost the lives of countless innocents? What right did you have to take them from their families? What right did you have to take _her_ from me?”

“She is a monster who has manipulated countless generations of humans from the shadows, twisting them to the tune of her sick song. You stand in support of a woman who condones the torture of _children._ ”

Her words only inflamed the hate in Byleth’s eyes. “She’s _not_ a monster.”

 _I had hoped the rumors had been unfounded…_ Edelgard thought. Now, she knew better. The look in Byleth’s eyes could only have come from someone who had lost her lover and found the one responsible. _The archbishop and a mercenary. A love story that would have even Dorothea enthralled, no doubt._

Byleth threw her hands up in exasperation. “You told me that your uncle and prime minister were the ones responsible for the death of your siblings, yet you stood side by side with that very man and watched him kill me. Why is Rhea suddenly at fault?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Were you lying to me the entire time?”

Edelgard stiffened. How _dare_ she?! “I will have you know, Byleth Eisner, that I never once lied to you about my past. To have you accuse me otherwise is idiotic.”

The glare her teacher was giving her was so potent she wouldn’t be surprised if it melted through the steel of her armor and burned out her heart. Sighing, Edelgard brushed a strand of hair out of her face and returned Byleth’s stare, any remaining hope fading from her eyes. ”I suppose this reaction should have been expected. Part of me knew your answer before I even asked, yet I had hoped you would exceed my expectations.”

Byleth smirked, drawing into an aggressive stance and raising her sword. “Sorry to disappoint you, your majesty.”

“Then the time for discussion has come to an end!” Edelgard snapped, charging forward. Her blade clattered against Byleth’s, the curved steel of her sword throwing up sparks as it pulled against her professor’s weapon. 

Edelgard let out a slow breath, calming herself and meeting the intense stare of her former teacher. Last time they had fought, she had ended up with a particularly nasty scar that even her mages had been unable to fully heal. If she didn’t give it her all, Byleth would kill her. There wasn’t the slightest bit of hesitation from Byleth as she pulled back and thrusted her blade forward, slicing open her cheek as she barely deflected the blow. Part of her felt hurt that Byleth did not seem to hold the same reservations about this fight that she did. Was their time together really so meaningless?

Leaping into her next strike, Edelgard smashed the hilt of the Sword of Seiros against Byleth’s shoulder. As Byleth stumbled back, she released the whip-like form of her sword. The edge of the weapon snapped at her feet. Edelgard danced out of the way, grimacing as she lost her advantage. Panting heavily, she observed her opponent more critically. Byleth seemed full of vigor despite their intense clash.

She had spent the past five years training like mad to catch up to her teacher, yet she still managed to catch her off guard. At this rate, their duel would end her life before she could achieve anything, cut short by the hand of the church. Edelgard reached into her coat with one hand, clasping around a tattered scroll tied into the interior.

A white hot blast of holy light smashed into her stomach, sending her sprawling. Her sword skittered across the floor, the metal humming as it bounced out of reach. Edelgard winced and clutched the wound at her side, rolling to her feet. Byleth started towards her, grip tense and trembling as she raised her sword high. Teeth set, Edelgard refused to look away or close her eyes. If she died here, it would be without flinching.

Byleth sighed, lowered her arm, and said, “Unfortunately, I can’t kill you.”

Edelgard blinked, rising to her feet. “What are you talking about?” Blood soaked through her undershirt, the newly opened wound burning as the cold night air brushed against it.

Byleth cocked an eyebrow, sheathing her sword and folding her arms. “I have no idea what you’ve done with Rhea, or the state of Fodlan as a whole. Not to mention, from what I know of your personality I doubt you’ve put your empire in such a state that it has no fallback plan in the case of your death. I am loathe to admit it, but your presence may end up reducing casualties on the battlefields to come. Killing you here may have consequences that I have yet to foresee.”

“I suppose…” Edelgard waited, her lungs burning from lack of oxygen. She dared not breath, in case Byleth changed her mind.

 _Look at me,_ she thought to herself, lip curling in distaste, _cowering in the hopes that the woman I love chooses to join me, even now. She’ll probably just take me captive until she can decide what to do with me._

Well, she wouldn’t have that. She leapt for her sword, snatching the hilt and rolling into a crouching position. Byleth snorted, her hand glowing white hot. “You can barely swing a sword in your state, Edelgard. I suppose I forgot to teach you when to cut your losses.”

Edelgard chuckled, pulling the scroll from her robe and unfurling it. “Actually, I’m just fond of this blade. Sorry, my teacher, but we’ll have to continue this discussion another time.”

Byleth’s eyes widened as the scroll in Edelgard’s hand ignited in a purple light. She cried out in protest, letting loose another blast of magic. It passed right through Edelgard as her form evaporated.

* * *

Hacking up a gush of crimson, Edelgard collapsed on the ornate tiled floors of the Adrestian throne room, clutching the burn mark at her side. As per her request, Hubert had cleared the spacious room out entirely in advance in case of an emergency. The looming golden throne sat above her as she gasped for breath, casting a long shadow in the torchlight. Banisters depicting the Adrestian Eagle fluttered in the breeze as the cold night air seeped in through the paneless windows. A small door hidden behind one of the banisters creaked open. Hubert peered out of the secret passage, eyes widening when he spotted Edelgard’s crumpled form.

“Lady Edelgard!” He shouted, dashing over to her and fishing a vulnerary from his robes. After splashing some of the potion on her burn wound, he poured the rest down her throat. Edelgard spluttered and shoved him off, clutching her throat as her wounds stitched together. She sighed, shoving her disheveled hair out of her eyes.

Hubert bit his lip, clearly concerned. “What happened, Lady Edelgard?”

“Remember how I spoke of the one thing I simultaneously desired above all else, as well as the singular fear that kept me awake at night?”

His expression stiffened. Setting his jaw, he helped Edelgard to her feet, letting her lean against him for support. “Do you mean…?”

Edelgard nodded grimly. “Yes. Our professor has returned, and she is even more powerful than before. I could not best her in combat despite my many years of training. If she sides with the remnants of the church, all will be lost.”

“What do you plan to do, your majesty?”

She said nothing, staring dully at the floor. Before Hubert could repeat the question, she snatched the Sword of Seiros from the ground and held it aloft. The wicked steel reflected the braziers’ flames, dancing across the metal as if the blade itself was alight.

“I think a more… personal discussion with Rhea is overdue,” Edelgard said bitterly.

###  **III - Seteth**

The monastery grounds were in shambles. Rubble littered the floor, pieces of the once gorgeous institution blasted apart due to the ambitions of a selfish woman. Seteth felt a low growl rise in his throat at the thought of her, his fists clenched so tightly that he lost feeling in his fingertips.

 _Why is it that humans such as Edelgard,_ Seteth thought, trembling, _can never seemingly be satisfied? Was it not enough that I lost my wife to protect a land in which my people had been cleansed like some manner of disease?_

The image of Flayn flashed through his mind and he steadied his breathing. It would not do him or his child any good if he lost himself to anger as Rhea had. Clearly her lack of level headed decision-making had left the country divided and unstable. When he had returned to the monastery upon her request, it was obvious that her actions would lead to conflict in some form or another.

 _And yet, I never conceived of the possibility that it would happen so soon._ He had desperately wanted to avoid dragging Flayn into a conflict like this, but after the war started it had been impossible to convince her to abandon the humans and Rhea. Personally, he had felt an immense relief that his daughter had grown to be such a good person, unwilling to abandon those she cared about. As a bonus, it forced him to keep his promise with the Progenitor Goddess and devout his efforts to saving Rhea.

Seteth stepped over the fragmented remains of the large cathedral doors, grimacing at the destruction of such excellent craftsmanship. The stench of death still hung in the air from the rotted corpses of men and women left to die under the collapsed roof. He winced as memories of screaming and shouting roared to life in his mind. Retreating from Garreg Mach following the death of Professor Byleth and the capture of Archbishop Rhea was the second-most difficult choice he had ever made.

Suppressing a sneeze, Seteth waved his hand to blow away some of the dust from his mouth, lips curling in displeasure as he surveyed the ruined pews. He had taken to patrolling the grounds on occasion to catch thieves and looters. While he may not have the supplies or staff required to restore the monastery, he would be damned before letting it succumb to the whims of those low-life scoundrels.

As he approached the enormous stained glass window at the far end of the hall, he noticed a figure in draping cloth standing before the statue. Seteth clasped the hilt of his sword and strode up to the intruder, eyes narrowed.

“Halt! Who is there?! Is that…”

He felt his heart freeze up, eyes widening so much that they nearly bulged from his head. Professor Byleth, still dressed in the goddess’ regalia, smiled at him and waved slightly.

“It’s been a long time, Seteth.”

 _What an incredible thing to say after seemingly returning from the dead,_ Seteth thought, shaking his head in amusement. This was certainly the same professor who fell in the canyon five years back, that much was certain. He doubted that anyone could mimic her nonchalant attitude quite so well.

“Yes, it has been…” His expression hardened and he folded his arms, adopting his standard contemplative posture. “But this is no time for casual chatter! After you disappeared five years ago, do you have any idea how dire the church’s situation became? Where were you, and what were you doing all of these years?”

“I was sleeping,” Byleth replied casually. Seteth opened his mouth to retort, then realized who he was talking to. If Byleth claimed she was sleeping for five years, it was probably true. Nothing else could explain her absence when her students needed her. Additionally, she was likely some form of Nabatean now, or at the very least possessed similar powers. Flayn had lapsed into a similar state following the war with Nemesis.

“In that case, I suppose there is nothing more to say.”

Byleth tipped her head, a slight gesture that would have been easily missed. Seteth had spent months carefully observing the professor to little avail, but he had managed to glean a thing or two. She was surprised. “You believe me, just like that?”

Seteth observed the young woman, smiling patiently as he often did with Flayn. “How could I not? You are clearly blessed by the goddess. As a child of the goddess myself, it would be stranger for me not to believe you are capable of something like returning from near-death.”

Dropping his smile, he stepped past Byleth and glanced up at the statue. He felt his fists clench reflexively and willed himself to relax, to little effect. “You should know that Rhea was captured during the battle at Garreg Mach five years ago.”

He turned, expecting Byleth to be stricken with shock. To his own surprise, she simply nodded. “I know. Edelgard told me.”

Seteth spluttered, nearly slipping on a piece of jagged rock at his feet. “Edelgard did?! When did you speak with her?”

“Just a few minutes ago, in the goddess tower. I defeated her, but she managed to escape before I could take her captive.”

“Then it is a good thing you did not kill her,” Seteth remarked, breathing a sigh of relief. “We have no idea what they would do to Lady Rhea should she fail to return.”

Byleth nodded. “I thought the same. A shame, I had hoped to end her life then and there.”

Seteth clasped Byleth on the shoulder. “I am happy that your role as teacher for Edelgard does not seem to be preventing you from making the correct choices, but do not let yourself be consumed with hatred. It is an all too familiar sight for me to see a friend do unspeakable things in the name of unmitigated anger.”

The woman hesitated, confusion in her gaze. Then, “Ah. You mean Rhea.”

He sighed. “I know you discussed at length with Lady Rhea as to what she did to you, and your presence here confirms that you are accepting of her, but that does not change the consequences of her actions. She performed numerous taboos on you and other humans without your consent, as is evidenced by your connection with the progenitor goddess.”

Taking his hand in hers, Byleth gave Seteth the biggest smile he had ever seen on the woman’s face. “I promise to not lose myself as Rhea did, Seteth. Now, what can I do to help?”

* * *

Seteth pushed through the thick brush surrounding the town. While he had managed to maintain control over the monastery itself, the villages dotted throughout the valley that had thrived under Garreg Mach’s protection had become dens for thieves and criminals. He had been planning to wait for the arrival of more soldiers fleeing from the Imperial Army in order to confront them, but their theft of artifacts from the monastery was one step too far.

 _But,_ Seteth thought, glancing at the professor as she ran, _I suppose the vessel of the goddess is the best I could ask for in a situation such as this._

Her return had been nothing short of a miracle for Seteth. He had been at wits end trying to figure out how to save Lady Rhea’s life and restore the church. Now, someone far more qualified to lead had seemingly appeared from nowhere in peak condition. She had objected at first, but Seteth knew she was the right woman to lead while the archbishop was incapacitated. While he did not agree with the methods that brought about Byleth’s transformation, he would not spurn the benefits it wrought. Having someone so in tune with the Progenitor Goddess would not only prove beneficial to the command structure, it would also invigorate the troops. Some of the church soldiers had even started referring to her as the Goddess of Flames in hushed whispers.

Chuckling, he strode into the ruined town, drawing his sword and letting the sound of steel against sheath reverberate through the air. Byleth cocked an eyebrow, tapping the tip of her blade against the ruined cobblestone. “Should we not approach this situation with more caution? Announcing our presence like this seems foolish.”

“It is a signal to our awaiting forces. My aim is to draw the bulk of the enemy’s forces to our location, while the rest of the church soldiers push in from behind.”

Several ruined buildings flanked the pair, the structures long since abandoned. However, due to the popularity of the region, many of the homes were tightly packed. With very few alleyways to sneak through, their position ensured that the enemy would have to come straight down the middle. Seteth nodded, content with his plan. Simple bandits would pose no problem when faced with tactical superiority.

“It won’t work.”

“What?”

The professor turned to him, her gaze as distant as ever. Many of the students and faculty had been afraid of Seteth back in the day, complaining that his stare was too fierce. At the time he had simply ignored them, but after Byleth took on her role as professor, Seteth felt like he could appreciate what the students were complaining about. Her gaze felt… off. Like she was not quite aware of the world around her, despite her uncanny ability to adapt on the fly.

She gestured back towards the monastery. “Your plan is a good one, Seteth, but it operates under the assumption that these are simple thieves. Edelgard herself was here not half an hour ago. Almost immediately after I chased her away, a group of ‘bandits’ raided the grounds that you had been successfully protecting up until now, getting past trained church soldiers with ease.”

Seteth felt his blood run cold. “You think these are Imperial soldiers in disguise?”

Byleth nodded. The wind that Seteth had previously been ignoring suddenly felt far too cold. If what she was postulating was correct, all of his troops were in danger. A strategy meant for quickly capturing weak-willed bandits would not prove effective against the might of Edelgard’s military. Biting his lip, Seteth racked his brain for a solution. 

_Have I learned nothing after all these years?_ Seteth didn’t have the command structure in place to adequately respond to severe changes in orders. Additionally, all of the troops he had brought were remnants of the church army, none of which held any rank or significant rank.

The professor heaved a sigh and started walking forward, taking a few practice swings with her relic.

“Professor, what are you doing?”

Not stopping her momentum, she craned her head and locked eyes with Seteth. Flayn had mentioned to him that Byleth’s eyes reminded her of an ocean, and he struggled to find a better description now. Vast and teaming with color, but simultaneously distant and turbulent.

“Your soldiers will die if we do nothing. I can probably take all of the bandits on my own.”

“What?!”

A gentle, sonorous giggle swam overhead before Seteth could stop Byleth. Dorothea Arnault stood at the top of one of the crumbled buildings, doing her best to balance on a support beam that creaked from the sudden pressure. “How very like our dear professor, rushing off into danger alone without a thought for her own safety. Careful, professor, you’ll make a girl cry acting like that.”

Seteth balked at the girl. “Miss Arnault, what are you doing here?!” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Nevermind, your arrival is at the most opportune moment. We shall discuss your presence later. Did you bring anyone else with you?”

The songstress sighed dramatically, holding a hand to her head as if revealing a tragedy in a play. “Alas, dear Seteth, I departed alone to Garreg Mach without a single groupie to accompany me. However,” she continued, gesturing to the corner of the long stretch of road, “I ran into a few friends along the way.”

True to her word, the entire Black Eagle class stood at the ready, brandishing weapons and grins a mile wide. Caspar and Linhardt stood side by side, the young mage healing a cut on the brawler’s arm. At their feet was the body of a ‘bandit’, no doubt the one that gave young Caspar his wound. He waved excitedly at Byleth. “Heya, teach! We found some bad guys hiding in the alleyways on our way here. I figured it wouldn’t be so bad to help out, yea?”

Linhardt sighed, pulling his hands away once he was content the wound had healed. “Honestly, Caspar, you didn’t have to charge him with your loudest battlecry. We had the element of surprise.”

Sporting a frown that impressed even Seteth, Ferdinand waggled a finger at Caspar. “That is no good, Caspar. You were doing so well back at the academy with suppressing your battlecries. Why forgo those lessons here?”

Snorting, Caspar puffed out his chest and cast him a sidelong glance. “Hubert was originally the one who told me that. What a snake! He must’ve told me that to weaken my strategy. My troops came to me after the battle at Garreg Mach and told me that my lack of battle cries was confusing them, after they had grown used to it. I bet it was a strategy to weaken one of the best fighters right before they betrayed us!”

Ferdinand winced at his words but said nothing more, instead opting to smile at the professor and bow low. His new regalia was even more austentatious than before, quite fitting for the boisterous noble. 

Bernadetta, the sweet artistic girl Seteth had come to know before the attack, waved excitedly at them and did a little twirl. “Oh, Professor, Seteth! It is so good to see you both.”

Seteth shook his head in disbelief. Professor Byleth had a miraculous effect on those around her it seemed, to the point that all of these youths abandoned king and country for her. He glanced at the woman, only to stagger in surprise at the sight of tears. The only time he had seen her cry was at the death of her father, when he and the knights came to retrieve the body.

Byleth charged the group, yanking the closest ones into a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry,” he heard her murmur over and over again, burying her head into the chest of Ferdinand as she wept. The throng of students seemed stunned, but were quick to recover and shower their teacher in affection.

Clearing his throat, Seteth gestured towards the center of town. “I am sorry, but this tender moment will have to wait for later. We were in the middle of clearing out these thieves. Your arrival is most fortuitous.”

Stepping forward and wiping her blade clean, Petra bowed slightly, her braid bobbing against her as she flashed a smile. “It is good to be seeing you, professor. We are here to help!”


	2. Subtle Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the Knights of Seiros have a new leader, the war against the Adrestian Empire can begin in earnest.
> 
> A deceptively young girl remembers.
> 
> The lost child stirs in the depths.
> 
> Cracks begin to show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> So here we are. Seven months later.
> 
> ...
> 
> I have been through one HECK of a ride this past year, y'all, as I am sure many of you have as well. I won't go into details on the private complications of my life, but needless to say it left me unable to write for an extended amount of time.
> 
> BUT NOW I'M BACK BAYBEE. YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH THIS SHIP? HA! I LAUGH AT YOUR DOUBT.
> 
> Genuinely, Sothis x Byleth still maintains the spot as one of my all time favorite ships, with Sothis as one of my all time favorite characters. I absolutely adore this story and would HATE to drop it before Act 3 (Which I am affectionately referring to as The Best Arc)
> 
> Buckle up, y'all, we're in for a bumpy ride!
> 
> Quick thanks to myself for beta testing these chapters for like, seven months. Really labored over those words one at a time.

###  **IV - Flayn**

Much of the countryside surrounding Garreg Mach Monastery had gone largely untouched by the war. Untended wheat fields swayed in the wind, abandoned by their caretakers long ago but lacking the telltale wagon trails and scorch marks from combat.

An abandoned town situated outside the looming walls of Garreg Mach proper sat equally undisturbed. The village was as close as you could get to Garreg Mach without entering it’s walls, and the benefits of its proximity showed. Compared to other settlements in the area, it had a well made road and buildings comprised mostly of cut stone. Homes were plentiful and well organized with cobblestone paths snaking between the various alleyways. A lone church with a decaying bell tower loomed over the empty houses below, the shadow steadily creeping over tiled roofs as the sun grew long in the distance. The gleaming brass bell had fallen through the roof of the church, smashing through pews and tiles that had been unfortunate enough to be situated beneath the spire.

A shout rang out from up the hill, shrill and full of pain as it disturbed a conspiracy of ravens. Slamming her boot into Sylvain’s shin had rewarded Flayn with a strange sense of satisfaction. She smirked as he hopped around on one foot and shot her a sullen look. After months of Sylvain pestering her back in the monastery, she’d dreamt of the chance for revenge. Once the war had begun, Sylvain, one of the transfer students that joined alongside herself, had chosen to side with his homeland, and Flayn had not seen him since. That opportunity presented itself this morning, when one of the soldiers tasked with protecting her reported that Sylvain was approaching the church on horseback. She had managed to convince the guards to let her handle it. Now that he was here without proper clearance, she had more than enough reason to give him a piece of her mind.

Sylvain stopped nursing his new injury and held his hands up in a placating gesture, flashing his infamous smile. “Look, Flayn, we discussed this already. I’m not the monster your brother says I am!”

Folding her arms, Flayn stuck out her tongue and turned her head pointedly. “I very much doubt that, Sylvain. Especially if Ingrid’s stories about you are to be believed.”

“Yeah, speaking of her, I was hoping to…”

“Nope!” Flayn exclaimed, spreading her arms protectively to prevent Sylvain from passing her. “I shall not allow you to take another step. A lustful fiend such as you shan’t be allowed to enter such sacred halls.”

Sighing, Sylvain rolled his eyes. “I’m not really interested in wasting time here, Flayn. I need to speak with Ingrid. It’s urgent. Can you just… find someone older I can speak to? I’m sure your brother would hate it if you were caught conversing with me directly.”

Flayn snorted. “I am plenty old enough to handle the likes of a young boy such as yourself! And my brother is not in charge of me.”

“Young boy?” Sylvain echoed, looking confused. “But you’re even younger than me, Flayn.”

She froze, her heart seeming to leap into her throat.  _ Oh no oh no oh no! _ Flayn wailed internally.  _ Father was right, I truly am bad at lying! Oh, Professor, what would you do? _

Sylvain scrutinized her carefully with a dawning look of realization. Flayn could feel his stare like a hot knife pressed against her stomach. “Say, you look like you haven’t aged a day since we were students together. Seteth, too. Is there-”

“What do you want, Sylvain?” Ingrid’s formal tone cut through the awkward air as she stepped up behind Flayn. Her long braid had been abandoned in favor of a short cut, save for her bangs that framed her face. She bounced a spear against her shoulder, eyeing Sylvain quizzically.

_ Thank the Goddess that you are here,  _ Flayn thought, relief swamping over her. “I was just telling this  _ scoundrel _ that he has no business here, but he refused to listen!”

Chuckling, Ingrid rustled her hair while shooting a glare at Sylvain. “That sounds just like him.”

It had always been strange to be treated like a child wherever she went, despite her actual age. However, after years of the same life over and over again, she had grown used to the way others looked at her. Admittedly, she was still very ignorant of the ways of the world, so it was quite convenient to be able to ask questions without being viewed as unusual. Still, what she wouldn’t give to look as womanly and strong as Ingrid. Her very posture seemed to radiate power and confidence, a marked improvement over how she carried herself during their time together as students.

Sylvain seemed breathless at the sight of her but quickly collected himself. “Ingrid, it’s been a long time! Uhm… uh, how have you-”

“Cut the chatter, Sylvain. What do you want?”

Flayn’s eyes widened. “Ingrid, is he not a childhood friend of yours? I know you told me all of those stories of his… skirt-chasing endeavors,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “but I had assumed you were still close despite that.”

Ingrid shook her head and eyed him quizzically. “So did I, originally. We both transferred into the Black Eagles together, but when the time came to stand up for what was right, Sylvain wasn’t there.”

“Wasn’t there?!” Sylvain shouted, advancing on her angrily. “You were the one who abandoned your people during the war to run away from home!”

“Is that how you saw it? A poor, confused girl stolen away from her country by the whispers of others? And to think I saw an opportunity for you to improve.”

He froze, mouth agape, as Ingrid pointedly turned her back on him and stalked away. Flayn glanced between the two, then bowed slightly to Sylvain and moved to close the door. Sylvain stepped forward, jamming his foot in between the doorframe and holding out a letter. “Wait, please! I didn’t mean to get into a fight, I just needed to deliver this to Ingrid. Make sure she gets it, okay?”

Flayn eyed him suspiciously, then sighed and accepted the letter. “I will ensure that she receives it, Sylvain. Good day to you, and safe travels on your journey back to the Kingdom.”

She felt a twinge of guilt at Sylvain’s forlorn expression as he turned away, but she wanted to trust her friends. Ingrid was the first person to show up after the loss of both Lady Rhea and the Professor, and she would not turn him away without good reason. Her chivalrousness and respectability instantly made Flayn feel more comfortable during incredibly uncertain times. As she trailed after the female knight, she inspected the letter Sylvain had given her. The paper was a bit tattered, but it was definitely sent by a nobleman. The gaudy seal embossed in scarlet wax proved that much.

When Flayn caught up to Ingrid, she was already back to practicing in the wing of the church they had cleared out. The ruined pews had been reconstructed into training dummies, and Ingrid was making quick work of them with her spear. At night, she enjoyed sneaking down from the upstairs bedrooms to try her hand at the spear. She was making progress, but she had never been able to grasp it as well as Ingrid or the others. While magic came easily to her, the martial arts felt tiring and full of needless complexity.

However, she had never given up on learning the spear. Her mother had wielded it herself, prior to the War of Heroes, defeating man and monster alike with spear movements akin to a roaring ocean tempest. It had been far too important to Flayn for her to abandon it so quickly, so she had sought out the Professor. Her mind flickered back to the day following her joining the Black Eagles.

_ She slashed wildly with the unwieldy polearm, trying desperately to recreate the fluid movements of her classmates. Byleth weaved between each strike, deflecting them when necessary with the flat of her blade. As Flayn dedicated herself to a heavy thrust, Byleth sidestepped the spear tip and grasped the polearm just above Flayn’s grip. Before she could react, the blue-haired woman smashed the pommel of her sword against her knuckles. Flayn yelped, dropping the spear and nursing her bruised hand while trying to ignore the more severe blow to her pride. _

_ Her teacher’s face was serene as she dusted herself off. Flayn trusted the Professor with her life after she had rescued her, but it was still very difficult to read the woman’s expressions. Walking over to her, Byleth picked up the spear and said, “Flayn, I don’t often tell students exactly how they should approach combat, but you seem to possess far more aptitude for magic than the spear.” _

_ Flayn felt her heart sink and nodded glumly. “You are correct, Professor. Many people such as my brother have advised against learning anything martial due to my lack of talent.” _

_ “Then why pursue spear fighting so persistently?” _

_ Tensing, Flayn wracked her brain for an excuse. Would it be all right to just be honest with the Professor? She did not seem like one to pry into other people’s business. “To be fully transparent, Professor, it is because of my mother. She was a truly magnificent spear wielder, and I very much want to achieve that grace on the battlefield as well.” _

_ For a moment, her Professor said nothing, opting instead to inspect her critically. Part of her felt panicked at the intense scrutiny, but she squashed the feeling and flashed Byleth a big smile. This woman had saved her life; she deserved at least a modicum of trust from Flayn. _

_ “In that case, let's try something out. Flayn, show me your hands.” _

_ She complied, unsure of where the Professor was going. Byleth dragged a finger across her palm, the cool touch of her skin startling Flayn. _

_ “P-Professor??” Despite her attempts to keep calm, something about the way the ex-mercenary’s fingers traced her palms made butterflies dance within her stomach. _

_ Nodding to her, Byleth released her hand and stepped back. “As I suspected, your grip on the spear is being compromised due to your minimal training. You lack the rough skin and calluses gained from frequent martial practice, weakening your grip.” _

_ Flayn pursed her lips, her brow knitting in frustration. “Then what do you suggest I do, Professor? I cannot simply obtain the training that others have worked so hard for with the snap of my fingers.” _

_ Byleth nodded. “True. What you can do instead is a substitute uniquely suited to you. Try coating your hands in a thin protective coating of Faith magic.” _

_ Blinking rapidly, Flayn glanced down at her palms. “That is not a spell taught in the academy, Professor. How could I-” _

_ “Your talent for magic exceeds that of anyone I have ever seen, Flayn. I am confident that you can manage this.” _

_ It wasn’t a lack of confidence that troubled Flayn. In fact, she had used a similar spell before. What troubled her was that humans had lost all knowledge of such a spell following the War of Heroes over a thousand years ago. There was no way Byleth knew of it. Yet here she was, suggesting it to Flayn. _

Well,  _ Flayn thought,  _ at least she has given me an ample excuse to use such a spell. If anyone asks I can simply claim that Byleth taught it to me.

_ She pretended to struggle for a few minutes in order to dissuade anyone who was watching, then ignited her hands in a white light. Byleth smiled proudly and handed her the spear. _

_ “Now, lets try one more time. Come at me, Flayn.” _

She summoned the spell again as she reminisced, her hands illuminating the poorly lit church in a gentle glow. Ingrid noticed the sudden light and smiled at her from across the room. “Come to watch me train again, Flayn?”

Before she could respond, a terse voice cut into their conversation. “Hardly! She promised to spend time with us today. Isn’t that right, Flayn?”

Lysithea von Ordelia stood proudly to the side, beaming at Flayn with her hands on her hips. She’d grown a bit in the past five years, her hair hanging a bit lower on her frame and shaper facial features.

Giving Ingrid a firm nod, Flayn said, “Yes, that is correct. If I am not mistaken, today is the day Mercedes and Marianne arrive to join us in our cause. I promised Lysithea to prepare for their arrival together.”

Ingrid nodded and flashed a smirk. “At least they will be better company than our last guest.”

“Indeed,” Flayn exclaimed, giggling slightly and brushing a stray bang of light green from her eyes, “I am quite excited for their arrival.”

A slight clanging of brass against metal rang out from outside the chapel, rhythmic and high pitched. As the trio peered out a shattered window of the church at the road, a lone banner marched steadily closer; the banner of her brother. Lysithea huffed a sigh and folded her arms. “They’re back too soon. We will have to work quickly if we want to be ready, Flayn. Let's get a move on!”

###  **V - Rhea**

The dungeons underneath the Adrestian palace were as far from hospitable as it could get within the boundaries of Fodlan’s borders, save for the Blasted Lands. Years of wear and tear had scarred the stone bricks, much of the walls decayed to the point of obsolescence. Water dripped from cracks in the ceiling, leaking down from the canals that ran throughout the length of Enbarr.

Rhea sighed and reached a shaky hand up to her face, pushing her unkempt green hair out of her eyes. The chain of her shackles grazed her chin, the coldness of metal causing her to wince. What little energy she could muster vanished, her body slumping limply to the floor. She gazed vacantly at her surroundings, purposefully overlooking the tray of food laying on the other side of the cell. It was probably poisoned anyways. Surrounding the small puddles of water that had coalesced within the holes in the floor were clumps of dull green moss, the fuzzy material interwoven with blackened mold. The combined smell of dirt and rot nearly made Rhea retch what little contents remained in her stomach.

It was difficult to keep track of how long she had been down here. Her food was delivered infrequently through a warping spell, and she had not spoken to anyone since she was captured. There were times where her memory blanked out, most likely due to the Agarthans drugging her food so they could safely experiment on her. Multiple needle marks and incisions along her body was all the evidence she needed of their sinister work.

So it came as a great surprise when the main door of the dungeon slammed open. What was more surprising was who strode through the door; Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg, the traitor herself. Rhea strained her body, pushing off the floor with her trembling hands and leaning against the bars. She glowered at the would-be emperor.

“To what do I owe the displeasure, your Majesty?” Rhea snarled, not bothering to conceal her malice.

Surprisingly, Edelgard winced at the snide declaration of her title. Glancing around, the short woman spotted an aged chair leaning against a pillar, no doubt the remnants of a jailer’s setup. Pulling it over to the front of Rhea’s cell, Edelgard sat down and stared at Rhea. Rhea’s eyes widened as she noticed the traitor’s tense features. Her jaw was set and her eyes ablaze with an emotion Rhea could not decipher. She could see the uncertainty behind her actions as Edelgard seemingly searched for the words she wanted to say.

Finally, Edelgard said, “How did you do it?”

“Pardon?”

“How did you win her over?”

Rhea groaned. “Child, why are you wasting my time with such inane babble when I have barely the strength to move? What is it that you want from me?”

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed to slits. Rhea noticed with delight that the woman’s fists were trembling in anger. “You took the woman I trusted most and turned her into a weapon of the church. Every part of her that I cared about seems to have vanished, replaced with an indiscriminate anger nearly identical to that of Dimitri. What did you do to her?”

Confused, Rhea ran through the emperor’s ranting in her head. The only woman she could think of that mattered so much to Edelgard would be…

Wait.

“Professor Byleth is alive?!’

Edelgard winced, then nodded slightly. “I encountered her in the Goddess Tower. Not only is she alive, she hasn’t aged a day.”

Rhea watched with interest as Edelgard clutched at her side. “Judging by the damage to your armor, I am willing to wager that she is even stronger than before.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Edelgard snapped back, yanking her cloak to cover her left side. “Why is she so fixated on you?”

“Fixated?” Rhea echoed, “I’m not sure I understand. Are you saying Byleth is-”

“WHY DOES SHE LOVE YOU?” Edelgard shouted, slamming her fist against the bars of her cell. “What could she possibly see in a manipulative monster such as yourself?”

Trembling, Edelgard glared at Rhea. Letting out a snort, Rhea clutched her sides and winced. The instinct to laugh was unpleasant when her entire ribcage ached from the effort. “Are you under the impression that Byleth Eisner is in love with me, Edelgard von Hresvelg?”

Edelgard stilled, not able to meet Rhea’s gaze. The drip of water echoed through the empty dungeons, disrupting the pause. “I… what else could have persuaded a woman as intelligent as her to protect a monster like you?”

Rhea hummed thoughtfully. While she had never thought it possible that Byleth would love her, the amount of times they had spoken could certainly be seen as showing interest. Many of those conversations were without her mother involved as well. Granted, much of it was endless questions about Sothis and the Nabateans, but she would be remiss to claim that she had not enjoyed her time with the new professor.

Did she love the Professor _?_

Rhea felt unqualified to answer the question in her current predicament, but her stomach fluttered slightly at the thought of her. An idea struck the Archbishop and she smiled cruelly.

“Why, yes. You are correct, dear child. While you were desperately trying to prove yourself to her, she was already at my side, spending nearly every day with me. Why, I do believe we spent weeks at a time having tea and sharing… private moments together.”

Edelgard stepped back in shock. “Y-you… with her…”

“Oh yes, we did everything that lovers do. Sitting together in the gardens, gazing at the sunset together… We even hugged from time to time.”

She sneered at the false emperor, expecting to see heartbreak and anger plastered across her face. Instead, she was met with a confused look. “That’s it?”

“Well…”

“I can’t believe this.”

Rhea backpedaled, confused by the lack of reaction. “I-I am unsure of how you show affection in the Empire, but I assure you that there were plenty of emotionally charged moments shared between the Professor and I.”

Edelgard stiffened, the confusion in her gaze quickly melting into a quiet anger. “Don’t call her that.”

Confused, Rhea tilted her head. “Why not? Once I am free of these chains I fully intend to resume operations at Garreg Mach. Knowing her passion for teaching and the love she held for her students, a love you cruelly betrayed might I add, I am certain she would accept her rightful position at my s-”

As Rhea spoke, Edelgard turned on her heels and began marching away. “I don’t know what I expected to hear. I am done listening to your nonsense.”

“Wait!”

The Emperor turned and returned the glower Rhea had given earlier. “What do you want, monster?”

Rhea bit her lip, refusing to be egged on by her callous words. “Is she… alright?”

Edelgard sighed, tucking the long strands of white hair behind her ears. “I don’t know. If I am honest, I was hoping I could glean some answers from you as to the state she is in. I am a fool for believing you could help.”

As Edelgard moved to leave once more, Rhea used the last vestiges of her strength to reach outwards, her eyes watering slightly. “Do not hurt her. Please. You have no idea how important she is.”

Clenching her teeth, Edelgard responded without turning to face Rhea. “I should hope you know your enemy well enough to understand that I would never-”

“It is not you I am afraid of, Edelgard. Your allies are far more sinister than you could ever manage to emulate. They will seek to destroy her more fervently than anyone else. You must stop them.”

A droplet of water splashed against the puddle in the corner of the cell, the sound bouncing along the winding corridors of the prison, seemingly emphasizing the oppressive silence that followed Rhea’s plea.

Without a word, Edelgard stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her with a clang. Darkness enveloped Rhea once more, the loneliness more painful than it had ever been.

_ Please stay safe, Professor... _

###  **VI - Petra**

Petra’s early enthusiasm at the sight of their beloved professor was being tempered with worry. The way Byleth carried herself felt… wrong. There were bound to be differences after the woman had been missing for five years, but this felt like more than that. The green haired woman frequently clenched her fists, her knuckles whitening as they pressed against her palms. At one point, Petra could have sworn she saw blood drip from her fingertips.

The rest of her classmates did not seem to notice. They pelted the professor with questions that seemed endless, each one more prying than the last. Byleth smiled at all of them and gave her standard short replies, but the enthusiasm felt horribly absent.

“Is Professor feeling the better?” Petra questioned, her lips curing in displeasure slightly as she realized her verbal error.

Byleth turned and gave a slight nod, flashing a weak smile. Petra’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing more. If her teacher wanted to share her feelings, she would. All Petra could do now was trust the bond they shared and hope it had not been abandoned all those years ago.

The trip from the monastery to the small hilltop church was uneventful save for the smattering of questions from her classmates and the occasional order from Seteth to their knight escort. Petra had opted to ride alongside the knights, intent on protecting her friends. The betrayal of Edelgard years before had set them all on edge, but Petra was the only one to take the change in stride. She had spent most of her life learning how she could help her people the most. When the Empire turned against the church, Petra knew that siding with Edelgard would have an equal chance of freeing her country or plunging it into eternal war, and that her actions in the moment would determine the outcome for her country as a whole.

She had chosen to side with the professor, but doubts still lingered in the back of her mind. Would her people have approved of her decision if they were here? Petra glanced into the window of the carriage where the professor, Dorothea, and Ferdinand were catching up. As Dorothea spoke, she glanced outside and locked eyes with Petra. She flashed a reassuring grin and gave a thumbs up before turning back to their teacher.

Blushing, Petra tossed her ponytail back and looked straight ahead. She still wasn’t sure what the burning in her face meant, but she was convinced the cause was allergies known only to Fodlan. Her face had never felt so hot in Brigid, so it must be due to the unique troubles Fodlan’s climate presented.

Surely.

It had absolutely nothing to do with how unbelievably pretty Dorothea was, or how bright her smile seemed.

These were normal thoughts to have about her friends.

Just normal.

Shaking her head, she turned to face forwards. If she let herself be distracted, her friends would get hurt again. Petra flexed her fingers, resting her hand against the handle of her bow. The wood of the bow, carved from an elusive Muninga tree, originated from her homeland of Brigid. Before the war, the Professor had given it to her as a gift. The specific type of wood had an excellent flexibility and strength, making it lethal in the hands of an expert archer like Petra. She smiled fondly at the memory of how excited she had been, bouncing on her feet eagerly before remembering her position. Petra had quickly shifted to a deep bow, but not before eliciting a genuine smile from Byleth.

Inhaling sharply, Petra took in the hilltop church as it came into view. Her eyesight had improved since she had come to Fodlan, a gift that had already been remarkable. She could make out a soldier at the top of the tower ringing a small bell in lieu of the large tower bell that was missing. All of the guards around the small chapel were adorned with Knights of Seiros livery, scrambling to attention at the sight of their company’s banner.

Petra smiled, eager to see more of her friends after so long.

* * *

Byleth slammed her hand on the war table, glaring daggers at Seteth.

“What did you say, Seteth?” Byleth snapped, her normally stable mood giving way to anger.

Seteth met her stare evenly, unperturbed. “We need to reinforce our position here at the monastery first before making any moves against the Empire. We are far removed from the front lines, but if Emperor Edelgard gets wind of our resurgence, the surrounding towns and hamlets will be destroyed in the wake of the Empire’s armies. Now is not the time to go galavanting off to fight.”

“I am of the agreement with Seteth,” Petra said, stepping forward. “We are possessing only the troops of House Aegir and the Knights of Seiros. As it stands, we will not be having enough strength to defend the monastery, much less mount an offensive. Let us be taking the time to recover, so that I may send word to Brigid.”

Curling her lips in displeasure, Byleth massaged her temples with both hands. “You… are right, Petra. I am getting ahead of myself. We will do as Seteth advises for now, until an opportunity presents itself.”

Everyone glanced between each other, then slowly dispersed. Dorothea briefly rested a hand on Byleth’s shoulder before walking from the room, face etched with worry. Petra had been right to show concern. The Professor was no longer acting like the woman she had come to admire. Her mind seemed clouded, bogged down by a burden Petra could not begin to understand.

What worries Petra the most is how brutal Byleth had been in combat against the thieves. Normally the Professor is cold and calculating, taking lives and fighting battles with logic in the place of emotion. In the previous battle, however, Byleth was a flurry of anger and resentment, blasting enemies to pieces and landing strikes that were unnecessarily savage.

Deep in thought as she left the room, Petra did not notice Dorothea until it was too late, colliding into her and sending the two of them tumbling to the ground. Flushed with embarrassment, Petra shot to her feet and extended a hand out for Dorothea. “Oh my goodness I am the most sorry. Are you okay, Dorothea?”

Giggling, Dorothea took her hand and flashed a reassuring smile. “I’m all right, Petra. Don’t look so worried.”

“I am looking worried?”

Dorothea nodded. “Since we met up with the Professor, you’ve been observing her nonstop. Anyone would recognize that twinkle of concern in your eyes, Petra. You’re far too kind and perceptive to miss how different our dear Professor is acting.”

“I am worrying, Dorothea. She reminds me of a Brigid Heron, focused too much on its prey to notice the hunting predator.”

“That may be true,” Dorothea said, brushing off her dress, “but I think the Professor may just be tired. At least, that is what I want to believe. She has been missing for five years, after all. Who knows what she went through during her time in that dark canyon. I’m sure it was very dirty!”

Petra laughed, feeling some of her stress wash off of her. “You are probably being right, Dorothea. I shall endeavor to think positively. Like you!”

Dorothea blushed. “Good to hear. Now, if you are not busy with anything else, I would love to have some tea with you.”


End file.
